Ash
by Czarina of the Cosmos
Summary: An original dedicated to GWing yaoi fans!! cough cough wink wink can't sue ^_^


Disclaimer: I can't be sued! It's brilliant BRILLIANT!!   
I can't be sued because I'm not using any trademarks at   
ALL! However, I would like to DEDICATE this ficcie to all yaoi  
Gundam wing fans! Fill in the blanks with your imagination!  
Warnings are yaoi implications, AU? Not AU? Your choice.   
Also, this is a deathfic. But. . . well. . shouldn't be THAT   
depressing. So, have at it!

It was the weirdest weather he'd ever seen. Cloudy but bright, and all the colors of the world, and all the shadows, were washed in a muddy ash grey. Summer was usually stormy, but it was usually loud. Things today were muted. Still stormy. He knew that no rain would fall. Not a drop would fall to wash it all away.

The funeral felt shorter than it was (which was fairly short). Open casket, out of the way grave, dangerous weather. Not really, he knew. No rain would fall. . .So he sat, alone, on a wrot iron handled and plank-seated bench that rested between two bowing Japanese maple trees slick with humidity. He watched the vague glow of the sun through the mottled clouds. The ocean didn't make any noise from the slopes below. The waves were ash grey and muted as well. Everything was muffled, as if an actual blanket of that cooling ash had descended onto everything and absorbed all the sound and made it hard to breath. He noticed as his taller friend padded up beside him, and after a moment of facing the waves, turned with his hands in his pockets to the face the bench.

"Are you all right?"  
"Yeah. Fine." _I'm not the one in the casket_, he thought. "How are you holding up?"  
"Fine." The taller boy sat, and both were silent. "Everything seems so strange today," he said. _Wrong_, the other thought. _Everything today seems wrong_.

"Yeah," he replied. The taller boy shifted slightly, legs crossed and one arm resting across the back of the bench.

". . . .You're not usually so quiet."

"You're not usually so talkative."  
"I'm worried, is all."  
"Why." He continued to watch the horizon, foggy and grey, blending into the almost blue of the ocean. His friend sighed, and glanced out that way as well.

"You know why. He was. . ."

"Our friend." The other boy nodded.

"Yeah, but. . .you two. . weren't you-"

"What." He looked at the taller boy, face set. Apathetic. Well, as apathetic as he could be.

". . .Nothing." Both boys looked away from each other and back out to the ocean. He fought a sigh, then a tremor, shifting on the bench, shoving his hands in his pockets for lack of place to put them. His throat constricted, and his eyes burned. _That ash_, he thought, _in my eyes_. _It's just clouding everything up_. . .

"Do you wanna head back?" The taller asked.

"I. . . no. I want to stay here."

"All right." The taller boy stood, placing his hands in his pockets again, the black of his jacket, pushing back to reveal the white of his shirt. White stained with grey. _Everything's behind that film of ash_. 

And after a moment. . . . 

"You do know. . ."

"What?"  
"That it's. . okay. You two, I mean. With all of us."  
"What is?"

"That he loved you and. . ."  
"He loved all of us. We were friends." _But dead people don't love anybody_.

". . . ." A sigh. "Right." And the taller boy retreated from the bench, idly running his fingertips along the trunk of one of the maples.

The rolling clouds faded the sunlight more, and it was no longer detectable just where the orb rested in the sky. He kept watching the sea. Even the bright red of the maple leaves was covered with a fine film of ash. It was all over the place. Everything was grey. . . .

_No_, he thought, wiping away the mere beginnings of tears from his eyes. _It was just water_. 

No rain would fall, he knew. Not a drop of water would fall to wash away the ash. And he missed him. But the ash couldn't possibly reach underground. Or if it existed, it couldn't possibly blanket heaven. But maybe the water could. He swallowed, hands shaking a little in the fabric of his pants pockets. A few tears finally rolled down either cheek, as loss crept up. But he let it happen. Alone, he could let it happen. Alone, they had always happened. . . The droplets of water struck the dark fabric of his suit and faded. More tears followed, silent and swift, and clear.

Maybe the water would wash some of it away, bit by bit. And one day it would go away. That ash. That hurt.

The sun continued on its way. _It'll just take time, is all_. It would just take its time.


End file.
